


Heaven Don't Have a Name

by starspangledmanwithaplan



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Character Death, ClintBartonSongListChallenge, Drinking, F/M, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 06:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21239417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledmanwithaplan/pseuds/starspangledmanwithaplan
Summary: Clint knows a lot about the goddess that saved his life. Only, she never gave him her name.





	Heaven Don't Have a Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jessica_Bones_Winchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessica_Bones_Winchester/gifts).

> This one shot is written for @ackeviddlestan Clint Barton Song List Challenge on Tumblr. My song was Heaven Don’t Have A Name by Jeremy Renner.

_ New York, 2012 _

_ She  _ ** _literally_ ** _ came out of nowhere. Appeared by his side in the blink of an eye. Helfire on her hands. Voodoo in her soul. She was a walking contradiction; dark, dangerous, a bit psychotic, giggly, and flirty. Wearing a pink taffeta skirt, tattered AC/DC concert tee, and yellow wellies to the end of the world, and damn, could she kick ass.  _

_ They fought off the intruders as best they could, but the alien numbers were too many, even against the goddess’ powers. They found themselves in the middle of the street, their backs pressed together, aliens circling them like prey.  _

_ “I’ve got one arrow left,” Clint panted, nostrils flaring. _

_ Obsidian flames flickered in her hands, along her arms, danced in her eyes. “Better be a good one.” _

_ He checked the arrow and groaned. He had used the last explosive one on Loki. “Define ‘good one’,” he chuckled, low and gritty, tired. _

_ She muttered a curse he’d never heard before and squared her shoulders. “What is the saying, go big or go home?” _

_ Clint glanced at her over his shoulder. “I never understood that saying. I’d much rather be at home.” _

_ “Too late for that,” she said with a cheeky grin. “I wanna go big!”  _

_ Without looking, Clint nocked the arrow and let it fly, straight into the eye socket of the biggest foe among them. The rest of the aliens growled as one, bristling and twitching, ready to attack, to avenge their fallen brethren. If only they had gotten the chance.  _

_ Power, raw and brutal burst from the goddess at Clint’s back. It was stand-too-close-to-the-sun-and-you’ll-get-burned bright, sizzling through the air, decimating the alien army to nothing but ash. When he opened his eyes, she was facing him, grinning wide, dark eyes sparkling, bouncing on the balls of her feet. He took in the sight around them and sighed.  _

_ “You couldn’t have done that sooner?” he half-shouted. _

_ She shrugged and trapped his chin between two purple-tipped fingers. “What can I say? I like foreplay,” she divulged, eyebrows wiggling, and then she was kissing him until he saw stars.  _

_ She tasted sweet, like cherries and Tanqueray, tongue curling in his mouth, drinking him down, setting every molecule in his body ablaze. And then, just as suddenly as she had kissed him, she was gone, leaving a smear of crimson against his lips, hints of vanilla and lime on his tongue. He hadn’t even gotten her name, and if he hadn’t known any better, Clint would say he was falling in love.  _

Since the battle of New York, Clint had come to know her, trivial things such as where she grew up, what her favorite color was, her favorite animal, book, movie; all of those things. The only thing he didn’t know was her name, and that was exactly the way she liked it. Not that he hadn’t tried to find out what it was, because he did. He hacked into the database at Shield to see if he could find anything. 

All his search yielded was a raging headache and getting his balls busted by Fury.

_ August, 2013 _

_ Billie Jean pumped through the speakers, jolting Clint from a much needed nap. Okay, he didn’t technically need it, but damn it, he wanted it. After the last mission, he earned it. Groaning, he shuffle-jogged into the living room, blanching at the sight before him.  _

_ She was dancing in the middle of the room, carefree, wearing a borderline-sheer and too-tight tank, black skinny jeans with holes  _ ** _everywhere_ ** _ , and combat boots. She had her hands in her hair, eyes closed, head tossed back, belting the words along with Michael Jackson. _

_ With an irritated huff, Clint reached over and turned off the radio. “Are you out of your mind?” _

_ “What?” she asked, lithe body still moving to the nonexistent beat.  _

_ “I was asleep.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tried glaring at her. _

_ When she chuckled, he knew it was pointless. “Clint,” she crooned, stalking over to him. “Are you saying you don’t want me here?” She was pouting, plush bottom lip sticking out, thick eyelashes framing wide doe eyes.  _

_ His body betrayed him, reacting as if they were lovers instead of friends. Every inch of him sizzled with desire and the throbbing ache between his legs stole the breath from his lungs. He shook his head and hurriedly blinked the haze from his vision.  _

_ “I don’t mind that you’re here,” he finally said, heart thundering in his chest.  _

_ “Is that right?” she purred, stepping closer to Clint.  _

_ He shook his head again and ran a hand through his hair. “Of course. You just surprised me, that’s all.” _

_ “That’s right, you were sleeping.” She chewed on her bottom lip as she raked dark eyes over him. “Tell me something, Barton. Do you always sleep sans clothes.” _

_ Clint’s heart lurched to a stop. He looked down at himself, and sure as shit, he was as naked as the day he was born. He had  _ ** _completely_ ** _ forgotten that he had stripped out of his tac gear before falling into bed.  _

_ “Son of a -”  _

The unnamed goddess began showing up at the compound and inserting herself into missions. Not that anyone minded, least of all Clint. Having her along made missions easier, and the length of missions became shorter. Having a goddess on their side really worked to their advantage. 

Most of the time.

_ Sokovia, 2015 _

_ Leather mini skirt, glittering tank, and red-soled heels on her feet. Not exactly standardized battle gear, but she didn’t care. Her uptown beauty choices never once impeded her fighting ability, though Clint did wonder how she managed not to snap her ankles in half when they were surrounded by debris and running around the floating mass of land.  _

_ Goddess or not, she was too late to save Pietro, though she did try. She kneeled next to his body on the evacuation ship and waved her hands, fingers flexing, weaving some old magic from her home planet. Wind whipped around them, carrying her words, giving them power, but it wasn’t enough.  _

_ At the compound, in the dark, with guilt coursing through him, Clint drank whiskey straight from the bottle. God, Tony would be pissed if he saw that. The thought made him snort.  _

_ “You have nothing to feel guilty about,” she informed him, emerging from  _ ** _fucking nowhere_ ** _ once again, those heels  _ ** _click-clicking_ ** _ on the floor as she approached.  _

_ “He was just a kid,” he lamented, thick and weary.  _

_ “And it was his choice.” She stood next to him, back to the bar, and pressed a hand to his face. “It isn’t your fault, Clint.”  _

_ A sob clamored up his chest and threatened to spill out. He swallowed thickly and took a healthy pull of whiskey. It burned down his chest, ate at the edges of grief.  _

_ “Oh, Clint, baby,” she murmured, pulling the bottle from his grasp and sliding it onto the counter. She cupped his face and kissed him, tasting the liquor on his lips and tongue. She pressed herself against him, felt him come alive under her touch as she pushed his clothes from his body. _

_ He took her there, against the counter, in the dark, frantic and needy.  _

_ She was gone in the morning before he woke.  _

He was never the same after that night. He missed her so damn much and he  _ still _ didn’t know her name. Even held prisoner in The Raft, he would close his eyes and imagine she were there, wearing something absurd and making him laugh. Those thoughts would drift back to that night, where her moans were all he could hear, where every inch of him thrummed with need. 

Even here, trapped in hell, he was thinking about Heaven. 


End file.
